


Moonlight Dance

by Aifrit



Series: Voidstrike Drabbles [22]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/F, Kissing, Love, Motorcycles, Nervousness, Nudity, Relationship(s), Reveal, Transformation, Voidstrike, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Werewolves, this is NOT a/b/o
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifrit/pseuds/Aifrit
Summary: Under the cover of moonlight and the crippling weight of their nerves, two souls reveal their entire true selves to each other for the first time, a monumental step in realizing the status of their relationship.
Relationships: Bangalore | Anita Williams/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Voidstrike Drabbles [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776784
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Moonlight Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Moonlight Dance  
> Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike)  
> Rating: T for nudity  
> Words: 2960  
> A/N: The full werewolf AU fic that I wanted to post for October. This fic took a month to edit for a variety of reasons including impostor syndrome, got sick for a couple of days, procrastination, and just general lack of interest some days. That being said I'm very proud of how it came out and I hope you enjoy it as well.  
>  **Note: As mentioned in the tags, this is NOT an A/B/O fic. No kinkshame, but we don't do that here.**

Deep sapphire eyes stare back at Wraith in her motorbike’s side mirror. The view unsettles her, irises expanded and pupils blown, accompanying an otherworldly but subtle glow. Her hair’s still perfect, though, cut down and shaved into a clean undercut. But she picks and preens at the longer locks with her fingers. Turns this way and that, grumbles until the Voices in her head growl at her to stop.

_It’s fine._

_You’re fine._

_Just nervous._

_Stop picking._

_Calm down._

_Control your eyes._

But how _can_ she? Raw power flows through her like hot electricity — a lightning bolt ready to discharge in all its thunderous glory. She’s on _edge_ , anticipation eating her alive and twisting her guts into a nervous knot. Her body ebbs and flows under the pull of the full moon. Senses intensify and crosswire. Aromas waft in front of her eyes, distant music dances across her skin. Tonight’s special, been planned for _weeks_. Yet, she's stuck waiting in the stuffy, underground parking garage of her girlfriend's apartment building, pent-up like a Tesla coil.

Sewage, rainwater, and gasoline stain her tongue, makes her bite back in abject disgust. Fifteen minutes she’s been waiting and every second further imprints the fetid stench to memory. When three familiar pairs of footsteps finally fly down the far stairwell, she sighs in relief. She thrums and vibrates enough to push the foul smell out of her mind, but the jitters remain.

Wraith crosses her arms, flexing against the biker jacket she wears. She forces her lips into the meanest scowl she can manage, but it's hard to keep up as the first person through the stairwell door sends her heart fluttering skyward.

Anita approaches with an apologetic smile and a quick, lazy salute that brushes noticeably shorter curls atop her head. She's clean cut, the sides of her head shaved down to a perfect drop fade. Unlike Loba and Witt dressed to the nines in their Saturday night’s best loungewear, she's dressed to ride in her jeans and boots. The hooded leather jacket she wears is zipped up enough to reveal a tease of dark skin and gleaming dog tags accentuating her collarbone. Wraith swallows at the sight and steels her jaw. Intensifying their senses is one thing, but amplifying their sex appeal by tenfold on top of that is unfair. Curse the moon, Wraith guesses.

Anita palms the helmet she carries in both hands. She curls inward, an attempt at a nonverbal apology. When she stands in front of Wraith and the resting bike, she gathers her words. "I am _so_ sorry. I— can you _please_ not look at me like that?"

Loba's eyes flash gold. She purrs low in her throat with pursed lips, mocking. "Sounds like _someone's_ in trouble."

Anita ignores her, half-grins sheepishly. The smile is genuine and furthermore, Anita knows Wraith's patience stretches so thin, especially on nights like this. "Promise I'll make it up to you later,” she says with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Given the company that tails Anita, however, Wraith admits her grumpiness is unwarranted. Witt will talk anyone's ear off, and Loba? She ignores the call of the wild by sheer force of will alone. Wraith finally relents, glower softening into gentle acceptance. She relaxes.

Loba and Witt coo in unison. God, these two are _insufferable_. If not for the shared secret amongst the four of them, she and Anita's relationship wouldn't register as a blip on anyone's radar. And yet, here it is being treated like some entertaining midday soap opera. Anita glares at them both, irises glowing red as both Loba and Witt share snickers. Witt only has this much confidence around Loba, else Anita would scare him off with a pathetic whine and grey tail between his legs.

Wraith ignores them to nod and relief washes over Anita's face. They can discuss this later. Don't need the entirety of Solace knowing how Anita plans to "pay her back." She tips her head before mounting her bike, picking up her helmet.

Witt's eyebrows raise as Loba's too busy checking her newly-grown claws. "Wait, wait, hold on, thought you were gonna hang out with us? Full moon tonight, remember? Where're you off to?"

"Going for a ride," Wraith says. It's only _half_ true, but it’s not like it’s any huge secret in this group of four. Anita saddles up behind her as she pulls her helmet on, and Wraith starts the bike.

"W-wait, hold on—”

Loba groans. "Let’s _go, Elliott_. You _know_ tonight is their special night. Leave them alone, hmm?”

Wraith’s heart sinks at her words as she’s reminded of the occasion, but she rolls her eyes. Loba isn’t wrong, and Witt gives up the prodding with a defeated whine. Wraith tips her head for a quick goodbye and watches Loba drag Witt back to the lobby stairwell. When Anita's arms wrap around her midsection, Wraith revs the bike and rolls out of the parking garage.

Pale blue moonlight bathes Solace City's near-empty streets. A thin layer of slickness covers the asphalt, the result of a rare downpour just hours ago. Mist hangs in the air, thick enough to obstruct the light from distant cars and Solace skyscrapers. It’s eerie to experience Solace this empty, dark, and dreary at night. Can’t complain, of course.

The drive to the edge of Solace is ten minutes past downtown. With the city and all its glowing glory at their backs, the dry and dark emptiness of the Solace badlands looms into view. Tall mesas overshadow the deserts and rolling hills where hardy saguaros and yucca trees strive to live.

Nary a soul drives these roads at night, not outside the safety of city walls and repulsor towers. Too afraid of the rare Prowler or Flyer. It’s a risk being out here, they both know that, but the excitement and exhilaration is too much to pass up.

Fifteen minutes and three turns later down an ever-deteriorating asphalt road and Wraith pulls up to the mouth of a familiar heavily-wooded forest. Wraith’s wandered here before, needed a place to blow off steam after a bad match. It’s an oasis in these barren lands and provides more than enough space to frolic and run as they please. She parks the bike next to a tree, kills the engine, and pulls off her helmet.

Anita gets up from behind her to pull off her own, eyes glowing a beautiful carmine. The limbal ring has expanded to cover the whites of her eyes in complete blackness. The Shift is kept at bay, but the wolf lingers under the surface, clawing and baying for freedom.

The hunger sits deep within Wraith too, gnashing teeth and slicing fangs, eager to release and pound paws against dirt and dust. But, she sits paralyzed on the bike, body thrumming and heart racing as Anita rolls up to kneel against her.

"Hey. You good?"

The hand on her thigh is electric and now there's no way Anita doesn't notice her trembling. No point in saving face. Her vitals don’t lie.

"No, I'm just…" She pauses, but what's the point? The writing's on the wall. She hangs up her helmet on one handle, takes Anita's and hangs it up too before sitting next to her on the gravel. "I'm—"

"Are you nervous?"

"Can't you tell?" she asks with a weak laugh.

Anita levels with her, sits down next to her. "The second I made it downstairs. Didn't wanna say anything in front of those two. They could probably tell, anyway.” As wild as her red eyes appear, there's a softness and beauty to them that Wraith admires. Wolf eyes or not, Anita is still Anita — understanding and empathetic and thousands of other fitting compliments swimming through Wraith’s head. "You can probably already tell, but I'm actually pretty nervous myself." She scratches the back of her neck and averts her gaze. "Excited, yeah, but… nervous."

And now that Wraith attunes her senses, Anita’s right. Her heart’s racing, breathing controlled to keep it in check, but the shakiness is there. Funny.

The silence between them lingers much longer than Wraith anticipates. She scratches at gravel to her side as Anita leans in close.

"Your haircut's nice," she whispers.

Such a simple statement burns Wraith's cheeks. She knocks her shoulder into Anita's playfully. "Stop, it's not like you haven't seen it like this before."

"I know, I know, I just… I wanted you to know again. I love it. Suits you."

Wraith breaks, coughs a small laugh. "I like yours, too."

Anita scoffs, running fingers through much shorter curls atop her head. "Oh, for real? Thought it was too short this time."

“Mm-mm,” Wraith starts, shaking her head. She studies the fade running down the sides and back of Anita’s head, reaches out to graze. “It's perfect. Suits you, too.” Her words freeze Anita, elicit a subtle smirk that plays across the full lips that Wraith glaces at. No need to pull Anita closer to get the point across, no need to decipher the pounding in their chests as they lean closer.

Their breaths mingle as Wraith makes the first move to capture Anita's lips in a soft kiss. Confidence and desire burn through; Anita's eager, smiling into Wraith's lips as Wraith tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth. Plays with tongue, swipes over grown-in fangs and copper tang. Wraith pulls away, sighs and whines before reaching for another kiss.

Anita chuckles low in her throat, one that could be mistaken for a growl on less sensitive ears. She trails fingers along Wraith's jaw. Dusks a thumb over her lip when she pulls away to train her eyes on Wraith. Her resolve shatters and breaks as she rests her forehead against Wraith's.

"You don't have to be nervous around me," she whispers, accompanying her words with a gentle kiss. Anita's heart hammers in Wraith's ears, blood pressure still elevated. The irony of that statement.

"Could say the same for you."

Anita nods and pecks her on the cheek. "Yeah, well. I know this is a big step for us. So… do you… want me to go first?"

Wraith's heart flutters in her chest. God, Anita's so sweet. Anticipation shakes them both and yet she offers herself up to be observed and appreciated like a human — or wolven — canvas. Wraith can’t help but admire her bravery. She wraps shaky arms around Anita in the tightest hug she can muster. "Would you please?"

Anita stiffens against her, rigid and confident, kissing her right at her earlobe. "Of course."

Wraith scrutinizes her when she pulls away to scramble to her feet. The tension in the air thickens as Anita ambles in a semi-circle, nails raking shorn hair at the back of her head. Kudos to her for playing off the nerves.

When her shuffling and shifting settles, she huffs. Brings her fingers up to unzip her jacket. She shrugs it off and tosses it at the bike. Misses. It falls to the ground and she clicks her tongue. Wraith chuckles. Anita's heart-thumps beat faster against her ribcage. Not hard to hear that, even from Wraith's spot on the ground next to her bike.

Anita tugs at and unbuckles her belt, undoes her jeans and kicks off her boots. She removes the rest of her clothing and underwear until she's stark naked in the howling badlands wind, throwing her garments and dog tags across the bike. Pale moonlight highlights soft curves and lean muscle definition, contrasting beautiful, dark skin. She tips her head in a show of confidence.

A fire resonates and burns within Wraith's core at Anita's display. Wraith may have lost her memories, but the indescribable inward pull and trepidation that tugs at her insides is warranted. Anita explained it to her once — a phenomenon that most wolves experience at some point during courtship. It’s not a strip tease. Not some secret sexual fetish or voyeuristic desire clawing at her insides. It’s an amalgamation of nature and nurture, thrumming and vibrating through her as strongly as the call of the wild.

Culture. Who they are.

Wraith sits up, fully alert and rigid. Her attention to her surroundings closes off. Nothing registers of importance to her more than the woman standing before her. She locks eyes with Anita as the Shift kick-starts.

Trembles wrack Anita's form. Coarse, dark fur sprouts from the hair between her legs, spreading upwards past her navel and abdomen and fanning across her chest like armor. It wraps around her back, up and over her shoulders before spreading to her neck and face and limbs. Joints crack and crunch and her limbs elongate as black claws tear through her fingers and toes. Her face contorts and twists; she “yawns,” maw stretching into a snout as more fangs jut through her gums. Her ears lengthen and flicker at the sounds of the forest. The powerful growl that escapes her courses through Wraith as a delightful shiver. At long last, Anita stands tall and proud on the tips of her toes, a final prolonged sigh escaping her as the Shift completes.

Deep carmine eyes glow and focus on Wraith. Burnt umber fur accents her lean, muscular frame. Black markings cover the fur on her head, neck and shoulders, her back and chest and newly-grown tail. With a quick flash of her fangs, her snout twists into that famous, recognizable smirk.

Anita is… _beautiful_.

Wraith exhales a long-held breath. Stands up to meet Anita and caress her face. Anita envelopes Wraith in her strong arms, makes her go rigid, until she slackens her grip and Wraith ceases her trembling. The moment of tenderness catches Wraith off-guard. She inhales deeply, takes in the natural woodsy scent of Anita’s fur. The transformation and revelation hits Wraith on a deep and primal level. She reaches — Anita's grown nearly half a foot — to bury her fingers in the mane around Anita's neck and shoulders. Claws graze at her back as Anita adjusts her massive hands around her waist. Finally, the epiphany truly hits Wraith, comes back to her like a lost memory.

The transformation — the Shift — is everything. Growth, family and bonding, learning and change. Heartbreak and loss. Rebellion, a challenge, self-defense. Survival.

Vulnerability. Love.

 _Everything_.

Wraith inhales with shaky and hitched breaths. Tears burn her eyes and she laughs at the ridiculousness of crying at a situation such as this. "Bang… Anita…" she croaks. Hesitation creeps just under the surface, and she hugs Anita tighter to ward away the feeling.

The chuckle that vibrates from Anita's chest shakes them both. When she speaks, her voice rumbles like thunder, "You don't have to."

An out. A call to postpone if she so desires. But how could she after what Anita did? No. She isn’t backing down that easily. Wraith tempers her resolve.

She steps away and shrugs out of her jacket and shirt to throw them behind her. Kicks off her boots and socks. Slides her pants off until she's left in her underwear. They've waited weeks for this moment, when the moon is full and the pull of the wolf is at its strongest, their power at its peak.

She bites down her nerves. Continues. In a few deliberate motions, she removes her underwear to shiver in the cool badlands air. She'll take the sand and gravel between her toes, the dusty air whipping her face and exposed abdomen. The elements mean nothing compared to revealing herself in front of her lover.

Anita lowers her head a few degrees, eyes narrowing.

_She’s watching you._

_Observing._

_Studying._

_Watching._

_...Admiring..._

No more fear.

With one deep breath, Wraith relaxes. The power, jolting like electric currents, flows through every inch of her. She focuses, pushes, and the Shift sparks to life.

Her back and shoulder blades itch, and like pinpricks, fur sprouts and spreads downwards like a cape before covering her front. Her arms and legs stretch and pull, a few seconds of pain and euphoria, as they lengthen to accommodate new height. Claws tear through her nails on her hands and feet; her spine breaks through her backside to form a tail. At long last, her jaw burns, cracks and pops as it lengthens to form a snout full of razor fangs.

When she stands at her full height, she experiences the world anew. The near-pitch black badlands brightens to an overcast day with the aid of moonlight and newfound visual clarity. Creatures in the forest and desert skitter and fight in the distance, their sweat and pheromones wafting through the breeze. Her unshifted senses already exceed the human average, but this? The new sights, smells, tastes, and sounds all blending together to create a symphony of utmost natural beauty? Nothing in any dimension will _ever_ match this gift.

The strained and studied expression on Anita’s face drops. She parts her maw, tongue lolling and tail wagging. She's excited, maybe even a bit proud, and Wraith's heart flutters at the supportive and toothy grin.

Anita gives her a once-over and rumbles, "Black as night."

Her fur. Wraith lets out a gruff laugh. Hunkers down on all fours to charge and pounce Anita to the ground. They roll and wrestle, whimper and whine, until Anita snaps jaws at her playfully and bounds off into the forest. With the nerves and anxiety quelled, Wraith lets loose and their paws thunder through the forest’s understory.

For once, they’re free of Solace’s busy streets, the cacophony of chattering, car horns, barking, and hoverboards. The Syndicate can’t reach them or breathe down their necks about the next scheduled match. Out here in the badlands, peace and quiet reign supreme, and who better to experience it with than the one person Wraith's opened her heart, mind, and soul to — Anita.


End file.
